Sing Me Moonstruck
by seilleanmor
Summary: Post ep for 5x11. For all those of you who wanted more of Castle and Beckett.


**I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed  
and sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.  
(I think I made you up inside my head.)**

_**Mad Girl's Love Song**_**, Sylvia Plath**

* * *

"I totally saw that."

Kate glances up at him from her seat at the counter, takeout menus still scattered in front of her like debris. He's staring, his eyes hot on her pulse where it flutters at her throat, so that when he comes for her the touch of his mouth to the papery skin just feels inevitable.

"Saw what?" She reaches back to wrap thin fingers around his belt, bring him around to her side so she can meet his sternum with her temple like a touchstone.

He grins, kisses the top of her head and then cards a hand through her hair. Yesterday she had to wear it tied up because he'd made it snarled and oily, but she can't find it in herself to care.

"Saw your face when Regina was talking about getting into skin tight leather pants. That twitch of your mouth."

Castle smirks down at her, his fingers kneading along the tops of her shoulders absentmindedly, the silk of her shirt slipping easily over his knuckles. "So what? You know I have the bike. That's not news."

"Yeah, but I'm still waiting for photographic evidence." He shrugs, stepping up against her so his thighs are twin pillars of marble at her back.

Kate presses her lips together, mouth stitched into a seam. She knows he'll try to breach it later, claim her for his own. And okay, yeah, she likes making him work for it. "I still don't think you could handle it. And definitely not the real thing."

"Hey now, I'm sure I'd love those pants." He leans over the top of her head, kisses the slope of her nose and then moves around to sit next to her at the counter, their knees lacing together.

"You'd hate them." Kate smirks, slides forwards on her stool just a little to get a hand at his thigh, smooth over his pants.

"Why?"

She quirks an eyebrow at him, nudges the cuff of his pants up so she can curl a toe into the top of his sock, scratch over the hard plateau of the bone at his ankle. "Do you know how long they take to get _off_?"

"Longer than you?" He makes his eyebrows dance at her, that slow and sexy leer creeping across his face, making his eyes crease up.

She swats at his arm, sighing at him. "_Castle_. What does that even mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

"You _know_ how fast you can-"

"Doesn't matter." He stands up again, settles between her knees. "Come here."

She tips her chin up to him, the cup of his palm at her cheek keeping her buoyant. "Hi."

"Hey. I see you've given up trying not to look sexy." She huffs, and he laughs at her, tugs at the sleeve of her shirt very carefully. "I like this one. A lot. A whole lot."

"It's just silk. And it covers everything." She can't help her grin. Because even though she doesn't really care what he thinks of her clothes, and even though she knows he'd love her in a burlap sack, it feels good to know that none of the attraction has gone. That it's been eight months, and he still wants her.

Okay, so she cares a little what he thinks.

"Yeah, but I'd rather it covered you. Because I know what's underneath, and I'd much rather everyone else didn't." She watches the grinding halt of his jaw as he hears what he's saying, tries to backtrack.

"You are a Neanderthal." But she's smiling softly, her hands sliding into his back pockets. It's ridiculous and embarrassing, but she can't be mad at him. The same is true for her. She likes the sharp cut of his suits, the shifting strength of his forearms when he wears his shirts with the cuffs rolled, because she knows what's underneath and later she gets to press her mouth to him.

"_And-_" He brings his other hand up to brush his thumb over her cheekbone, cradling her face now. "The silk is almost as soft as your skin."

He brings his mouth down to her and she smiles into it, their kiss crumbling around her teeth. "Do you think Javi's okay?"

He growls low in his throat, chases her mouth again. "Don't talk about Esposito when I'm trying to kiss you."

She laughs at that, two fingers to the seam of his lips to stave him off. "Easy, tiger. This case seemed kinda hard on him. Drudged up some tough memories of his past."

"He's fine, Kate. It was a long time ago; he's a very different guy now. And anyway, I'm sure if he needs someone to take his mind off of it, Lanie will tell you all about it later." Castle smirks, coming back for her mouth, and she lets him.

He's right. Espo's fine. And she's still humming with leftover arousal from last night, when she and Castle got to come home a little early, trusting Esposito to take care of the kid.

Rick's hands slip inside her shirt, fluid over the rolling terrain of her spine, and she arches into him. And then it hits her again, the thing she'd really been meaning to say.

"Castle, you know that Alexis isn't just luck, right?"

He rocks back on his heels to look at her, cupping her elbows to keep her close. "What?"

"You always say that you lucked out with her, that you don't know where she gets it from. But your daughter is smart, and she loves fiercely, and she knows how to have fun, and she's passionate about things, and all of that comes from you."

He bows his head, forehead meeting hers, his eyelids fluttering closed. "Oh, Kate. Thank you."

"Don't thank me. You're a wonderful father, Castle. And you had to do it all by yourself." She laces her fingers behind his neck, tilts her head to catch his eyes, pour her assurance into him.

She's never doubted him as a father. Not even for a fleeting moment. And she wants him to know it.

"Yeah. That was hard sometimes. But it's okay." He laughs a little, the dip of his head drawing great swathes of shadow under his jaw. "She seems to have turned out pretty good despite that."

"Yeah. She really did."

He hums a sigh, goes for her mouth again, and she stands up, the alignment of their bodies pushing a gasp up her throat. "Kate. Come to bed."

"Okay."

She lets him lead her to the bed she can't stop thinking about as _theirs_, the new sheets they picked out together last month crumpling underneath them as he loves her.

Afterwards, he hooks an arm around her waist and anchors her against him, and the liquid line of her body offers no resistance to the words that want to come spilling up out of her.

"Castle. Next time. You don't have to do it alone."


End file.
